Four of a Kind
by Dark Aegis
Summary: Life's a gamble. Life with the Doctor is poker. And four of a kind is a powerful hand. A Tenth Doctor, Rose, Seventh Doctor, and Ace story.
1. Chapter 1: Out of Aces

**Title:** Four of a Kind  
**Authors:** Gillian Taylor  
**Rating:** PG  
**Characters:** Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Seventh Doctor, Ace  
**Summary:** Life's a gamble. Life with the Doctor is poker. And four of a kind is a powerful hand.  
**Spoilers:** Slight reference to TCI, if you squint. Some reference to the NA _Love and War_.  
**Disclaimer:** Don't own them. I just like playing with them...a lot.  
**Archive:** Sure, just let me know.

**A/N:** Thanks, as always, to my fabulous betas Ponygirl, WMR, and NNWest.

* * *

**Four of a Kind  
by Gillian Taylor**

**Chapter 1: Out of Aces**

_"If you don't mind me sayin', I can see you're out of aces."_  
- The Gambler, Kenny Rogers

Another day. Another planet. Another megalomaniac bent upon world domination. Another populace crushed under oppression and severe regulations. Another place to save with the judicious use of Nitro Nine and the Professor's brand of dramatics. Another day of having to rescue the Doctor from one of his failed master plans.

Sometimes, she thought, her life was too predictable. When had her life turned into a never-ending sequence of saving the day, teenage angst over one of the Doctor's decisions, and going back to the TARDIS in time for a much needed kip? When had her life turned into one death-defying gamble after another?

The sound of rustling fabric forcefully pulled her out of her contemplation. There was no time for this. No time for considering just what travelling with the Professor meant for someone like her. No time beyond what she needed to try and rescue him from yet another death sentence.

She pressed herself against the wall, willing herself to be invisible. Though she carried a gun, she preferred to avoid using it. If she did, it would only bring more - and better-armed - guards to the dungeons. Better to hide and sneak. Better to pretend that she was invisible and maybe the guards wouldn't see her.

She didn't move as the guards crossed the hallway to head down yet another passage. Snippets of their conversation reached her ears, but none of their words caught her attention until she thought she heard them say 'Doctor.' Deciding to risk it, she moved closer to the corner, straining her senses to hear the rest of the conversation.

"Still can't believe he won't give us a name beyond 'Doctor.' It's a title, not a name!" one of the guards groused.

"Yeah. Won't matter for much longer, though. He's scheduled to be done in a couple of hours, yeah? What sort of..." The voices grew fainter as they turned another corner.

Well, cruk. That told her nothing beyond what she already knew. The Doctor was here and in danger.

Same old, same old.

Only once choice. She had to poke her head into each one of the cells until she found him. Wasn't efficient by any means, but she wasn't willing to attract attention to herself by knocking out or threatening one of the guards.

When she found him, she was going to kill him. She was getting tired of this. Tired of gambling. Tired of loss after loss. Tired of one rescue after another. Sure, they saved the universe. Sure, they saved people and planets. They did all of that, and more. Travel with the Professor was never dull, never boring. However, it was never easy. Never painless. How many had she watched die? How many times had she been manipulated? How many times did she have to try and save the Professor only to find out that he had had something else up his sleeve all along?

And yet she stayed. Despite all of that, she stayed. Because he needed her and she needed him.

"Doctor," she hissed at each doorway. He had to hear her, had to answer. He must be here, somewhere. The guards had confirmed it. Unless she had missed his cell, or missed him, and it was already too late.

"Yes?" A faint voice answered at one of the doors and she grinned fiercely at the result. He was there. She had him.

"Wicked!" she murmured in self-congratulation as she began to pick the lock. Stubborn things, ancient locks, but luckily she had a bit of a head start over the people of this time. She was persistent and had a rather nice lock-picking kit.

A few moments later, she shoved open the door. The Professor would probably say something like 'Oh, Ace, what took you so long?' or something equally annoying. Or else tell her that her rescue attempt wasn't part of the 'plan.' Damn him, anyway.

That was when she realised that the man currently looking at her was not the Professor.

"Oh, cruk." That summed up her thoughts rather well.

"Ace! Hallo!" The man grinned widely, clearly excited to see her. "Blimey, I wasn't expecting to see you!"

He was tall, wore a pin-stripped suit, a bit cute, and were those Chucks? "Do I know you?" she asked suspiciously, edging back toward the door.

"Do I...oh! Surely I haven't changed _that_ much! Oh, wait, I am a bit taller. Thinner too. And I have more hair. And I have a mole. The old me didn't have a mole. At least, I don't think I did. That was such a long time ago." His nose wrinkled faintly as he seemed to consider his words. "A very long time ago, indeed. So, what're you doing here?" He seemed to realise that she was still suspicious and he ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it further. "It's me, Ace. The Doctor. Your Professor?" He seemed so earnest.

She blinked. Impossible. Improbable. Then again, she _did_ travel through time and space in what looked like a 1960's Police Public Call Box. "I...that's impossible. How can? What? You were, or rather he was just here. Just outside. Still short, Scottish, and infuriating."

His grin widened. "Still am. Here, that is. Well, I'm here. And he's here too. Somewhere. Seems to happen a lot to me. Two of me runnin' about on the same planet. Oh. Wait a tic. Now I think I remember." He stood up quickly, the force of his movement causing the bench to rattle noisily against the wall. "We've got to get out of here!"

Ace opened her mouth to reply before snapping it shut again. This man was manic. But, she did remember the Professor telling her a bit about regeneration. Maybe this was the Professor. Maybe. And she'd thought he was _cute_? "What do you think I'm doing here? Sightseeing?" She shook herself out of her fugue. There wasn't enough time. She had to rescue the Professor - _her_ Professor.

He grinned. "Wasn't that why we came? Well, the other me. See the sights, check out the local cuisine, go to a concert?"

She looked at him.

The Doctor, well, this Doctor, had the good grace to look somewhat sheepish. "Right. Let's find where I put myself."

She was starting to get a headache and she suspected that it was only going to get worse before it would get any better.

* * *

She was going to kill him. If he wasn't already dead, she was going to kill him. _'You'll love it, Rose! Gothic architecture, fancy dress, balls, feasts, opera, theatre and, even better, no running from danger!'_ She should have known. Should've guessed. After all, when one travelled through time and space with a Time Lord - even if he was the last of his lot - danger was a given. It was part of why she had joined him, after all. But dungeons were not exactly on her top twenty things to see before she died. Especially not dark, dank dungeons with her leg chained to a wall.

The click-clack of spoons interrupted her introspection and she shot her cellmate a glare. He had been 'playing the spoons' off and on for the past twenty minutes. It was distracting. "Oi! Do you mind?"

"Oh! You have a request?" He grinned widely, doffing his battered fedora.

"Yeah. Would you stop makin' that racket? It's hard enough to think in here without that noise."

"Noise?" he asked in an affronted tone. "I'll have you know that I've won awards for my ability to play the spoons."

"And this is supposed to impress me?" she sighed, shaking her head. Just her luck to not only be separated from the Doctor, but to be stuck in a cell with a self-appointed entertainer.

He looked rather taken aback by her comment. "Of course! It is a specialty, you know. Not everyone can play the spoons."

"That's called playing?" she asked, rolling her eyes.

"Of course I get stuck in a cell with a critic," he groused before he eyed her intently. "I'm the Doctor, by the way. And you are?"

She blinked. The Doctor? There was only one Doctor and this short, annoying man was certainly not him. "Rose. Rose Tyler. And Doctor...?" Her voice trailed off as she waited expectantly for him to complete his name.

"That's right. Nice to meet you, Rose."

_'Run for your life.'_ She completed the sentence in her mind automatically. Why did the Doctor's, her Doctor's, words come back to her? Impossible. But...she had seen the Doctor regenerate into a new man once before. Could it be? No. No, no, no, no. Not again. Not now. Not here. Not without her being there to see it. Not without her there to help him. No. She denied it. "You're _the_ Doctor?" She knew that her tone was laced with disbelief, but she did not care.

"The genuine article. Accept no substitutes." He looked at her curiously, his expression intent as he seemed to stare directly into her soul. She knew that look. Knew it far too well.

He was the Doctor.

But how?

"You changed." It was a statement rather than a question. Regeneration. Changed every cell in his body because he had died. Her Doctor had died. But...

Wait. Her Doctor, the current Doctor, knew her. After regeneration. After he burst into that golden light and emerged speaking about new teeth and Barcelona, he _knew_ her. And this one did not. Of course! An earlier regeneration. Had to be. Only explanation for it.

"I...do I know you? Or did I know you? Or will I know you?" His brow furrowed as he seemed to search his memories. "Hmmm...must be a 'will' know you, since I can't recall meeting you before. Though I do tend to forget things after a while, especially at my age."

A giant weight seemed to have been lifted from her shoulders at his words. He wasn't _her_ Doctor, not yet. Her Doctor was still alive, somewhere, and he needed her help. And, once she helped him, she was going to kill him for this.

Silence filled the room, though this time it was not punctuated by spoons. She had to think. Figure something out. This might be a Doctor, but he wasn't her Doctor. Escape. There had to be something they could do. Something…

_Clack._

_Clackety-clack_

_Clackety-clackety-clackety-clack._

How this Doctor had survived for this long without someone killing him from sheer annoyance astounded her. "D'you mind?"

"Not at all." He increased the tempo. _Clackety-clackety-clack-clack-clack._

She could feel a headache coming on. Maybe she could appeal to his better nature. "I'm _tryin'_ to figure a way out of here."

"You are?" He seemed surprised, but he did stop 'playing the spoons.' "Of course you are."

"An' that racket is _not_ helping."

"Hmmm...then you wouldn't be interested in knowing that I already know how to get out of here." He looked so smug. Damn him.

"You do." She favoured him with an annoyed look.

"Of course! I tend to have several. Plan A is the first one, but if that doesn't work there's always B and C."

"Which are?" She waited somewhat impatiently for him to explain himself.

He seemed to deflate. "Oh. Well. You see, I tend to come up with them as I go. 'A' ended up getting discarded as soon as I noticed the bolt on the door was an antique. Sadly, my sonic screwdriver cannot affect it." He suddenly turned a rather intent look at her. "How are your acting skills?"

"Before you ask, no. Definitely no. Not going to work. You've tried that line before, Doctor, and it didn't work then an' it isn't going to work now. Playin' sick only works in the movies, an' everyone's tried it before anyway." Definitely the same man. Same stupid plans. Same request. Acting skills. She rolled her eyes.

"I assure you that the people of this time period have not seen those movies," he replied in an affronted tone.

"No? Then what're you still doin' in here? You were here before me, after all."

"Er…yes." He fiddled with the spoons for a moment before smiling sheepishly. "That trick doesn't seem to work as well when you're me."

"Then what's plan C, 'cause you're not convincin' me to play sick."

"Rebels."

She repeated the word dubiously. "Rebels."

"Precisely. Where there is a megalomaniac, there is a rebellion. It's a fact of life." He rolled his 'r's' in emphasis, reminding her more of a Scottish Captain Kirk than the Doctor.

"An' how're you going to contact the rebels?" she asked.

"I hadn't got that far." Great. Fantastic. Looked like it was up to her to figure a way out of this mess.

"And plan D?"

"Ace."

Ace? Like that told her anything useful. She sighed. Wonderful. Fantastic. Why couldn't she have been stuck in this cell with someone useful rather than this annoying version of the Doctor?

"It's always useful to have an Ace up your sleeve, y'know." The Doctor smiled brightly at her, apparently ignoring her exasperated look.

"I'm sure," she said dryly.

She stood and brushed her hands against her jeans as she regarded the door with slightly narrowed eyes. There had to be something she could do. Think. Think. Think.

Assets. What sort of assets did she have? She felt in her pockets, but came up with nothing. Even her mobile had been confiscated by the backwater guards of this bloody planet. Then again, what use could that be? Call for help?

Last she knew, the Doctor - the proper Doctor - was in the same situation she was. Right. There went the assets discussion.

Ah. She'd forgotten her companion. If he was the Doctor, even if he was annoying, he must have something that might be of use. "So, d'you have anythin' that might be useful? Like a lock-pickin' set?"

The Doctor harrumphed as he set aside the spoons. "Let's see. Can never remember what I put in my pockets." He reached inside his pocket and began to pull out an assortment of bits and bobs. A piece of twine, a ball, a flask, a sonic screwdriver, a toothpick, a lot of matches, more spoons, a large brown bag that spilled open to release coins and a strange spider-like robot, and a green cube were spread out on the floor within moments. "Ah, looks like I left the lock-picking set in my other jacket. Too bad I also seem to have left the Nitro Nine. It might've been useful."

She didn't get a chance to make a remark about the contents of his pockets as she heard the sound of a key being inserted into the lock. As if by magic, the collection of odds and ends disappeared from the floor, secreted away into the Doctor's pockets once more.

The heavy wooden door swung open and a man who looked like he'd walked out of _Shakespeare in Love_ entered the room. His expression was haughty and he barely even looked at them as he began to speak, almost as if his speech was by rote. "I am Chancellor Narim. It is my task to inform you that you are scheduled for execution at sundown. Do you have any last requests?"

"Can think of a few. How 'bout a pardon?" she asked. It was at that moment she realised that she had been travelling with the Doctor for too long. She was starting to sound like him.

"Any last requests?" Narim repeated, his tone indicating boredom.

The Doctor grinned and, as he caught her eye, he gave her an exaggerated wink. "How 'bout a nice walk outside? Smell the clean air, feel the grass beneath my feet, see the sky one last time?"

Narim sighed. "That is within my power to grant. You will be escorted to the castle gardens. You both will be surrounded by guards at all times. Any movement outside the gardens will be met with deadly force. The outcome will be the same no matter what you do. You both will die."

"Oh, that's comforting. Thanks for that," she retorted. Great, she really was sounding like him.

"You will be allowed one candlemark in the gardens," the Chancellor continued. "The guards will collect you shortly."

Because she was masochistic, or perhaps it was more a desire to determine just how much trouble they were in, she asked, "How long until sunset?"

Narim smiled and the slow stretch of his lips seemed almost malevolent. "Two candlemarks." With a mocking half-bow, the man stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

"I've always loved deadlines," the Doctor said as he put back on his fedora. "How about you?"

That settled it. If they survived this, she was going to kill the Doctor. And, at this point, she didn't care which one got the honours.

_To be continued..._


	2. Chapter 2: The Secret to Surviving

**Chapter 2: The Secret to Surviving**

_"The secret to survivin' is knowin' what to throw away and knowing what to keep."_  
- The Gambler, Kenny Rogers

Great. Second verse, same as the first.

"Good to know that some things don't change," she groused. "You still come up with stupid plans that never work."

Wasn't his fault that they'd walked straight into a contingent of guards. Well, maybe it was, but she didn't have to needle him about it. He hadn't exactly planned on them being there. He'd just wanted to search the rest of the cells. Nor had he planned on ending up in the stocks in the courtyard.

Why were the token villains always so imaginative in their methods of restraint and torture? Was it really too much to ask for once, just once, where he could easily escape whatever mess he or his companions found themselves in?

"Oi! I'll have you know that it was a spectacular idea. One of my best," he protested. "Besides, who's saying that this wasn't part of my plan?" It could've been. Only it wasn't.

"Right." That one word dripped with sarcasm.

If he could've turned his head more than a few centimetres, he would've given her a look. Instead, he was condemned to stare at the ground. Wasn't a very exciting view. Nothing really changed.

"Have a little faith, Ace. We'll get out of this."

He hoped.

"And now you're an optimist? Wonders never cease." Bitterness laced her words and he blinked in shock.

That wasn't like the Ace he knew. The Ace he knew was a perpetual optimist. If something wasn't going her way, she'd make it go her way - with explosive force as needed. Curse dodgy regenerations anyway. He couldn't remember what had happened to this version of Ace. Hadn't met Benny yet, apparently. Ace was still wearing the jacket...

Oh.

Oh, bollocks. He had been a right manipulative bastard, hadn't he? If he could, he'd string his previous self up by his paisley scarf, but he wouldn't. Damn history, especially personal history, anyway. At least there was one thing he could offer her. Wouldn't make it better, but it might help. "I'm sorry, Ace."

"Why? You never were one for apologies."

He winced. "Why not? I'm a new me, Ace. I handle things a bit differently nowadays. And I am sorry. Though there wasn't much I could've done differently. Could've tried hopping, but I doubt that would've fazed the guards."

There were some things he couldn't add. Couldn't add that he was sorry in advance for Jan's death. Sorry in advance for the dozens of aches and pains that he'd put on her. Sorry in advance for manipulating her. Sorry in advance for everything.

Ace laughed softly. "No. Don't think hopping would've worked. But ya never know with you. Even when you do something completely daft, it tends to work. Still haven't figured out how you manage it."

"Blind luck," he offered. He hadn't figured out how he managed it either.

"Must be." He could hear the smile in her reply and he hoped that for now she'd be okay. That would change, of course. It always did. But now was what mattered.

He tried moving his wrists and neck in an attempt to determine how much slack he had in the stocks. The answer was little to none. That would've been too simple. He'd always complained when things were too easy.

He made a mental note to smack himself next time he uttered that complaint.

* * *

The gardens were beautiful. Lush foliage stretched toward the bright aquamarine sky. Flowers and various bushes were a cacophony of colour against the greenish-yellow grass. Hidden amongst the leaves that barely brushed the top of the walls, he could see guards. Near the edges of the gardens, by the few entrances back into the castle, there were other wardens.

They'd been warned that one misstep outside the boundaries of the gardens would cause them to use lethal force. Lethal force? Deadly danger? It was just another typical day. Only this time there weren't any explosions.

At least, not yet.

He was surprised that he hadn't yet heard from Ace. Even some sort of low rumble of explosive to signify her presence would've been gratifying. However, knowing her, she'd be in as much, if not more, trouble than he.

Some things never changed.

Except, right now, he had to plan. Figure a way out of this particular mess. At least they weren't restrained. Getting around the guards wouldn't be much of a problem. They'd just have to make a circuit of the gardens to check their arrangement. Well, time to put the plan in action.

He walked straight to one of the flower bushes, sensing Rose following somewhat dubiously behind him. With a flourish, he heaved a huge comic sniff of a bright red flower.

And sneezed.

"Excuse me," he apologised, digging into his pocket and pulling out a handkerchief. He dabbed his nose and shoved the object back into his jacket and smiled brilliantly. "Smell that fresh air, Rose. Why don't you help an old man through the gardens? I'd like to get a closer look at some of the flora. Oh, is that a dbextrian meralistrope?"

She looked rather taken aback as he arched his elbow for her, but she took his arm all the same. Good.

In between his prattling about the flora they could see around them, he whispered his intentions. "Need to get the lay of the land, Rose. See where the guards are, the exits. Then we can get out of here."

They walked in relative silence around the garden. He covered any pauses he needed to make to observe the guard's attentiveness and positions by exclaiming about whatever plant was handy. He knew that Rose was barely holding back her laughter when he indulged in a dissertation on the usefulness of the Solanum mammosum.

He certainly hadn't had any input on the more common name of 'the tit plant'. Humans.

Their best bet at escape would be through one of the side doors. They'd be hidden from the sight of the sentries on the wall. The two guards at the entrance might be a problem, but he could deal with them. And, knowing his companions - past, present or future - Rose would be able to handle it as well.

"This way," he told her, leading her toward the edge of the gardens. "Follow my lead."

They were challenged before they even reached the door. "What do you want?" one of the guards asked, pointing his weapon toward them.

"World peace, a cup of tea, and to be a juggler," he replied, doffing his hat.

"Go back into the gardens, old man. You shouldn't be here." The guard's weapon lowered fractionally.

"Why don't you see the gardens? Bring your friend with you. They're lovely this time of year, aren't they?" He stared intently into the other man's eyes.

"Yes. Yes, they are." The guard's words were somewhat slurred, but that was to be expected. "C'mon, Haresh."

"Sir?" Haresh asked.

"Let's see the gardens."

"But, sir, we must remain here. Our duties require it." Haresh eyed him suspiciously. He did his best to look harmless.

"Our duties remain, Haresh. Nothing will happen. The old man and the girl will not leave. They know the consequences."

He smiled, returning Haresh's gaze. "It is a lovely day, you know."

Without any further argument, the guards abandoned their post to walk in the gardens. It was so nice of them to be suggestible.

That was when he realised Rose was staring at him in open-mouthed shock. "Are you trying for charades? 'Fraid best I can come up with is fish. Is that what you were going for?"

"How 'd you do that, Doctor? You jus' told 'em to walk in the gardens an' they went? That some sort of Jedi mind trick?" Her brow was furrowed in confusion.

He sighed. "Lucas never got that right. I told him it was Jinnai, but he wouldn't believe me. Come on, Rose. We've got work to do." With those words, he led the way into the castle.

* * *

Right. Chalk up being locked in stocks as part of the top ten list of things he never wanted to do again. The novelty of staring at gravel was starting to wear particularly thin. There had to be something he could do. It wasn't proper for him to be outwitted by a set of wooden planks.

Moping was doing them no good. Think, think, think. What did they know? He was in the stocks. Check. Couldn't reach the sonic screwdriver. Check. Stocks too tight to give him any movement of wrists or neck. Check. He could move his eyes. Check. There was nothing useful on the ground nearby that either he or Ace could possibly reach. Check. There was nothing behind him, at least as far as his legs could reach when he moved them. Check.

And what did that tell him? Absolutely nothing.

"Cruk!" Ace exclaimed. That summed up his thoughts rather nicely.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Don't ya mean what isn't it? We're crukked. We're stuck in the stocks and the Professor's gonna get killed at sundown if I don't do anything."

There was that. He certainly didn't remember getting killed on this planet. He had a vague memory about Puccini at the end of his seventh life, but that was it. And Ace hadn't been with him. Right. So he wasn't supposed to die here. Well, he amended, his seventh self wasn't supposed to die here.

He didn't particularly fancy dying here either. Right. No dying. It was a good plan. The best. Only problem was how to implement it.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," a very familiar voice chided from somewhere behind him.

"Professor! Where the hell were you?" Ace demanded, but her words were drowned out by another familiar voice.

"Doctor!" He felt a human-hot hand touch his own and he grinned.

"Rose! Miss me?" He would've cocked a cheeky grin, but it was hard to be cheeky when your audience couldn't see your expression.

"Are you hurt? Did they do anythin' to ya, an' who's she?"

"Rose, meet Ace. Ace, meet Rose. Now that the introductions are done, mind gettin' me out of this? Speakin' of which, where were you?"

He heard her fumbling around by the lock that secured the stocks. From the muffled conversation to his side, he knew that his previous self was doing the same with Ace.

"Tryin' not to commit murder," she replied tetchily. "An', Doctor? If you ever, an' I do mean ever, pick up playin' the spoons again I'll kill ya. 'Kay?"

The spoons? Oh! "The spoons! Blimey, forgot about those. I used to be pretty good, too." Maybe he would be again.

"Don't even think about it," Rose warned as the pin fell away from the stocks. A moment later, he was freed.

"Oh, but, Rose. Could be fun. I used to play the recorder, did I tell you that? Might try it again. I used to be rather musical. Wonder what happened?" He stood up carefully, wincing as his aching muscles stretched. Yup. Stocks currently ranked as number one on his top ten list of things not to do again.

"You were banned from one too many worlds for your lack of musical abilities?" Ace suggested.

He shot her a wounded look, noting that his previous self was doing the same.

"Anyway, shouldn't we, I dunno, get outta the open before someone sees us?" Rose asked, already edging away.

"Good point." They headed for one of the inner doors, not pausing until they were somewhat under cover.

"So what's the plan, then? They nicked my jacket, Professor. I don't have my Nitro." Ace looked particularly downtrodden over the loss.

"We do what we always do, Ace. Overthrow the oppressive regime, help the people set up a new government, and get back to the TARDIS in time for tea." He'd forgotten what a smug git he had been.

"'S not what we always do," Rose replied.

That was when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Many footsteps, really. Which meant guards. Great.

"No, _this_ is what we always do," he agreed. "Run!"

So they did.

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3: Playing the Game

**Chapter 3: Playing the Game**

_"And the night got deathly quiet, and his face lost all expression.  
Said, if you're gonna play the game, boy, ya gotta learn to play it right."_  
-The Gambler, Kenny Rogers

Rose rested against the wall, her sides heaving from the run. Ten minutes. Ten minutes of dodging through corridors, ducking into empty rooms, and hiding behind conveniently placed statuary. It was inevitable, really. In fact, she had yet to visit a planet where they hadn't had to run. Either to something or from something. It was becoming a habit.

Well, at least it helped her keep in shape.

"Right. Story time!" The Doctor, _her_ Doctor, rounded on his shorter, more Scottish, and far more annoying previous self. "What's a nice Time Lord like you doing in a place like this?"

She fought the urge to groan.

"Probably the same thing that happened to you," Ace's Doctor answered. "This isn't how history's supposed to go. Hervalis should be a peaceful planet, full of peaceful, happy people. I found the nearest official, said 'hello, I'm the Doctor' and they threw me in jail-"

Ace grinned as she contributed, "Must've heard your reputation, Professor."

The shorter man continued without bothering to acknowledge Ace's comment. "-but rampant xenophobia will do that to a populace. As will oppression, depression, starvation, illness, smoking, a dictator in charge, and the lack of good tea."

"Hmm, sounds vaguely familiar," her Doctor replied.

"Should do," Rose said, rolling her eyes. "'S the same thing you did, only you didn't even get past 'hello.'"

"Must've done." His nose wrinkled for a moment as he seemed to consider her words. "Okay, maybe not."

"Now that we know what happened, how're we going to fix it?" Ace asked. "They've got to have an armoury. They'd probably have put our stuff in there. If I get the Nitro, I can..."

"Ace, how many times have I told you?" The other Doctor grinned as he reached out to tweak Ace's nose. "Save the explosions for later."

_Explosions? Nitro?_ Rose thought dazedly. The previous version of her friend seemed rather violent in his old, or rather, young age. The intricacies of how someone could be older and yet look younger at the same time were enough to give her a migraine.

"So, ya just gonna barge into the dictator's throne room or whatever he has an' try to talk 'im out of it?" she asked, anticipating the plan.

"Yup! Top of the class," her Doctor replied with a wide grin.

"We need to get our stuff first," Ace protested.

"Stuff?" she asked.

"Yeah. My jacket, the Professor's brolly and one of his gizmos."

"It's an Excelis Mark IV E-trasdilexic morphalic scanner, Ace." The 'Professor' – it was easier to think of him by Ace's term than to keep calling him the 'other Doctor' – corrected.

"That's it." Ace nodded, but it didn't seem like she cared what it was called. 'Gizmo' was definitely easier to say.

"Oh! I haven't seen an Excelis Mark IV E-trasdilexic morphalic scanner in years! Right. Ace, Rose, go get the scanner. We-" The Doctor's nose wrinkled as he seemed to consider what to say. "-no, me. I? Whatever. We'll go see our gracious host."

She shot him a look. Two Doctors together in the same room? Or, rather, two Doctors left to their own devices? She knew that her version got into plenty of trouble and his past self seemed to be cut of the same cloth. Right. So she'd have to rescue him.

Again.

Ace rolled her eyes and she grinned. Some things never changed, apparently. No matter the regeneration.

"'M not gonna say 'stay out of trouble' 'cause I know you, Doctor. So good luck," Rose said.

"You too, Rose." His eyes stared intently into hers and she could almost feel an unspoken message being passed between them. However, when he blinked, the moment was gone.

"Time waits for no man, or Time Lord. We've got work to do." The Professor doffed his hat and headed out of the room, a bemused Doctor following behind.

A moment later, they, too, were on their way.

* * *

His fingers itched to hold his brolly, but, sadly, he couldn't. Not at the moment. He'd tried weaning himself away from the habit, but it seemed to be a characteristic of this regeneration. Well, every Time Lord needed some sort of quirk.

He needed his brolly, and, apparently, his future self needed Rose. How things had changed. "What number?" he asked.

"What? Oh, number. Ten," the Doctor replied.

He blinked. Ten? His choice of apparel certainly hadn't got any better. Trainers with a suit? At least he hadn't regressed too badly. He could get a headache just from thinking about the multi-coloured atrocity he'd called his coat last regeneration.

"At least you've got better dress sense than some of our previous selves."

"Miss the scarf, though," Ten replied thoughtfully. "I did love that scarf. Still don't understand why I never tripped on it, though."

"Dumb luck," he said as they reached the central chamber of the castle. Without bothering to even discuss options with his future self, he pushed the door open and marched inside.

Their opponent wasn't much to look at. He was a short, round man with a goatee and a comb-over. Actually, he was rather stereotypical in those regards. Evil wears black, has a goatee, and a bad hair cut.

If he had to give the man one credit, he did seem to handle the sudden appearance of two Time Lords rather well. The dictator regarded them both calmly, with only the barest hint of curiosity in his eyes. Nor were any guards summoned. How interesting.

That was when he took a closer look. Ah, there. A flicker of a second eyelid, or, rather, his gills. A Yrsilian, then. And that made the dictatorship seem obvious. Hervalis was a prime source of krillamatite – the mineral that was the fuel source for all Yrsilian technology. The reason was simple, and as obvious as the man's appearance.

Greed.

It was always greed. He tugged on the hem of his pullover and began to speak. "Yrs-"

"Yrs-" Ten said at the same time.

Now he remembered why working with himself tended to be difficult. They could never decide who would take the lead.

He shot his future self a glare.

"Oh, please. Don't stumble over yourselves on my account." The Yrsilian's soft voice seemed at odds with his large form. "You can each have your say, Time Lord."

He blinked and his tenth self seemed just as shocked to be identified, if not more so.

"You sound surprised. Don't be. I knew who you were, Doctor – or should I say, Doctors? – from the moment your ships landed on my planet. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Teran ni Frelanixud, and I am your worst nightmare." The Yrsilian stood and advanced upon them both, one fleshy hand almost caressing a bejewelled bracelet around his other wrist.

Before he could do more than open his mouth, Teran pressed a jewel and the air around them glimmered with sudden energy.

Both he and his future self were surrounded with sparkling energy. His eyes narrowed as he stretched one finger forward.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that, Doctor." Teran grinned. "Unless you'd like to experience a jolt of ten thousand krenin."

"What do you want?" his tenth self demanded.

The Yrsilian grinned. "Me? I want nothing more than this planet's krillamatite. It's my sponsors that you should worry about."

"Who are?" he asked.

That was when he heard the sound of metal boots clanging against the marble floors of the throne room. He knew that noise. He knew that step. They were approaching from behind.

He turned and his mouth dropped open though he had already guessed. "You!"

The Cyberleader's scratchy tones echoed ominously in the chamber. "Doc-tor. You have been identified as an enemy of the cyber race. Resistance is useless."

* * *

Ace crouched near the intersection of the hallways, pressed close against the solid strength of the stone wall. Her senses strained to detect the approach of any guards before she'd let either herself or Rose cross. Nothing. She could hear nothing beyond her own soft breathing and her companion's slightly harsher breaths.

No. Wait. There was something.

Something...squeaking?

Whatever it was, it was soft but it was approaching. And quickly. She barely had enough time to stand and press Rose against the wall with one hand.

Now she could hear something under the squeaking. Almost…mechanical in nature.

What could...

No.

Oh, hell, no.

She dared not move more than her eyes as the squeaking object rolled past, its metal gleaming in the torchlight.

A cybermat. It was a bloody cybermat. She only recognised it thanks to the Professor's stories. They were small robots that resembled little more than metal worms, but could be used as devastating weapons. They'd attack anything – human, alien, machinery, power supplies.

If there were cybermats about, that meant that Cybermen were somewhere nearby.

Here she'd thought this day couldn't get any worse. She bit back the automatic curse that rose to her lips.

And, of course, she didn't have any gold on her. Right. First get the weaponry and then raid the treasury. There had to be gold somewhere. Anywhere.

When the squeaking faded and she could hear nothing else, she turned toward Rose. "We've got bigger problems than just a dictator. That was a cybermat, which means we've got Cybermen on our hands."

She caught Rose's blank look. Of course. It figured that the future Doctor hadn't mentioned them to her. "Cybermen are bad news. They're metal men who can't be hurt, or stopped, by anything other than gold. And inevitably, the Professor's gonna be right in the middle of it. Keep your eye out for gold, yeah? Anything gold, really. Decorations, gold plating, or gold trim."

The blonde girl nodded. "Yeah. How much gold does it take to stop 'em?"

"Last time I faced them, it didn't take much. But I dunno if it was the amount of gold, where I hit 'em with the sling shot, or what. The Professor never said anything beyond gold was their weakness."

"Figures." Rose said and for a moment they shared a look of mutual commiseration.

For all that the future Doctor looked different, there were some constants. The Doctor would never explain himself and he'd always get into some sort of dilemma.

She grinned and nodded toward the hallway. "C'mon. The armoury should be around here. Then we can gear up and get back to the Doctors."

Rose nodded. "Yeah, they're probably in trouble."

"He never does have to look for it. Trouble always finds him," she agreed. Problem was that, whenever it found the Doctor, it tended to find her not long after.

_To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4: Winners and Losers

**Chapter 4: Winners and Losers**

_"Ev'ry hand's a winner and ev'ry hand's a loser..."_  
-The Gambler, Kenny Rogers

Trouble always found him.

Never failed, that. Regenerations came, regenerations went, but some things remained constant. Tea was good, Cybermen were bad, and he'd always end up in some sort of mess.

He cocked a grin. "Ah, Cyberleader. It's always nice to know that I've been missed. And an enemy! Oh, I wouldn't say that really. Didn't you lot have a name for me? The Deceiver? Was that it? Really, I'm getting old these days. Forgetting all sorts of little bits of trivia. Very, very old. And if you want to know what's best for you, you'd better let me – us - go."

"Threats are useless," the Cyberleader replied. "You will be deleted."

"Where're the original threats? Where's the threat of being upgraded to one of you lot? Deletion? Deletion! Honestly, I'm rather offended. And _you_!" He rounded on Teran. "You should be ashamed. Dealing with the Cybermen? Think they can be trusted? Think they'll just let you have this planet and its resources?"

"The Cyberleader promised," Teran said, but he could see a flicker of doubt within his eyes.

"Promised?" his seventh self repeated incredulously. "Promised? They'd no more promise you the time of day, let alone the planet. No wonder they chose you. Not only are you a stereotypical megalomaniac, but you're an idiot to boot."

"Cyberleader?" the Yrsilian asked.

Good. Very good. Let him start doubting his actions. And maybe, just maybe, both he and his seventh incarnation could convince him to turn.

"You will have this planet, as promised. The Doctor is the Deceiver. Do not trust his words." The Cyberleader's scratchy tones were anything but reassuring.

"Oh, I'm hurt. Seriously." He clutched at his chest.

"If you're going to delete us, get on with it. We don't have all day. Or all night," Seven groused.

"You're in such a hurry to die?" Teran asked.

"No," his past self corrected. "I'm in a hurry not to be bored to death with your and the Cyberleader's posturing. And I thought the High Council of Gallifrey was bad."

The Cyberleader gestured toward the Yrsilian. "Lower the force field."

"But that's all that's restraining them. They could escape," Teran protested.

Sometimes, it seemed, the generic megalomaniac could show some intelligence. They certainly could escape. And he intended to. He could already see that his shorter incarnation was reaching into his pocket for something. All he needed to do was provide a distraction. If only he had gold. Sadly, he'd stopped carrying a gold pocket watch after his eighth regeneration.

Eighth regeneration. Gold. Pocket watch. Of course!

"Lower the force field," the Cyberleader repeated.

"On your head, then." Teran pressed the switch.

As the force field faded in a flickering display of light, the Cyberleader and another cyberman stepped forward, hands were outstretched to try and grasp his and his past self's shoulders. Their voices mingled into one ominous echo, "Delete. Delete. Delete."

* * *

Rose's world had narrowed down to creeping through the hallways of the castle and praying that with each step they would not be noticed. Invisibility was the key. Invisibility and near-silence. She winced as her foot scraped against the stone tiles, but she could hear no alarms. No shouts. No indication that she'd given the game away. 

She rather envied Ace's almost cat-like movements ahead of her. Despite her gymnastics training, she could never even hope to mimic half of the other woman's innate grace.

Ace held up her hand in a silent motion to stop as they reached the next intersection.

She held her breath, worried that someone might be coming down the hallway. They had to be close. They must be. How hidden would they make an armoury, anyway?

The attack came without warning.

A blur of something silver launched itself at Ace's neck. Before she could do more than open her mouth to try and warn her companion, Ace's hands were wrapped around the object as she tried to force it away from her neck.

That was when she recognised it. It was a cybermat. It'd looked harmless, but it was anything but.

She hurried to Ace's side, grasping the metal worm's body and helping to heave it off of her companion's neck. "Bloody, stubborn, crukkin' piece of…" Ace's words faded into mumbles and grunts of effort as they tried to pull the cybermat away from her neck.

Suddenly, it seemed as if the cybermat had given up. It stopped fighting to reach Ace's neck and they managed to throw it to the ground. "Quick, get something to bash it!" Ace told her.

She scanned the hall. Ah. There. On the wall. An empty torch holder. An empty, _heavy-looking_, torch holder. That should do the trick. She stretched to grasp the object.

The cybermat spun on the floor and rolled toward her.

Her fingers wrapped around the handle and she lifted it from its base.

With a mechanical squeal, it launched itself at her. She had a second to act.

One second.

She swung.

And connected.

The cybermat's squeal was cut short with a rather satisfying double-crunch – one from the torch holder and one from the wall. It slid to the floor in two pieces, and didn't show any signs of life. Or, rather, any indication that it still functioned.

Ace stood over the remains with an unfathomable expression on her face. "We're running out of time. C'mon, Rose. The armoury is close by." Without waiting for her reply, Ace set off at a brisk pace, leaving her to scramble to keep up.

Her companion was right. The armoury was just around the corner. Admittedly, it was guarded by one rather bored-looking man, but it was there. Ace held up her hand again, gesturing for her to come closer. "Well, cruk," Ace whispered. "Didn't think about a bloody guard. Can you distract him?"

She bit her lower lip and nodded. Last time she'd suggested that she distract the guard, it'd turned out that Jack was better suited for the job than she. She suppressed the brief pang of grief over the loss of Jack. He was a good friend. "Yeah."

A distraction. Right. She could a) try to seduce him – that was too Jack-like, really, b) pretend she was a helpless girl – she wouldn't dare that, not around Ace, or c) take a page out of the Doctor's book and just talk to him.

There weren't many choices available to her. So, she chose the simplest. Tugging on the hem of her top with both hands to straighten the fabric, she straightened and boldly turned the corner and walked down the corridor.

The guard noticed her a few seconds later and turned toward her, drawing a weapon from its sheath. "Who're you? What're you doing down here?" he asked nervously.

"Oh, just walkin' about," she said, smiling brightly at him. "Seeing what there is to see, meeting interesting people. Y'know, the usual." Maybe her best option would be to combine some of her choices. Try option A and option C, see what happened?

"But that doesn't tell me who you are." The guard lowered his weapon, evidently deciding that she wasn't worth threatening. She wasn't certain if she should be thankful or insulted.

"Oh, I'm Rose," she replied in a soft voice. Her steps slowed as she approached him and she could see that his attention was trained solely upon her. "And you are?"

"Ne...Nebrik," he replied, swallowing nervously.

She walked around him, noting that his eyes followed her every movement. Good. "So, Nebrik, what're you doing down here?"

Before he could answer, Ace took care of him – with a sharp blow to the head with the same torch holder that had destroyed the cybermat. "Not bad," Ace said with a wry smile. "Now let's get blockhead here into the armoury before someone sees him."

The guard was heavy. Last time she'd had to carry a body, it was the Doctor, but he certainly didn't seem to weigh as much as Nebrik. Then again, the Doctor hadn't exactly been wearing heavy armour.

She grunted as they heaved the body inside the armoury, barely managing to avoid knocking down any of the equipment. That did it. Next time she was in the TARDIS, she was going to start lifting weights. It was practically becoming a necessity next to running.

They propped Nebrik against the wall and left him to search the room. The one glimpse that she had of Ace's expression was of rapt fascination and an almost unnatural glee. However, she had more important things on her mind than her companion's apparent fascination with archaic weaponry.

The Doctor needed her. Needed them.

Enough thinking. More searching.

She was inspecting one of the chests – armour, knives, chain mail, and was that a cricket ball? - when Ace's triumphant shout interrupted her concentration.

"Ha! Idiots didn't even think to empty it out, either. Don't see the Professor's gizmo, though. It's not in here."

Rose turned to see Ace grinning widely as she shrugged into a black jacket emblazoned with patches. "Didn't empty what?" she asked.

Ace pointed at the ground where a rucksack full of some sort of silver canisters leaned against the table. "That. Here, you carry it."

Shrugging, she crossed the floor and hefted the bag. It was surprisingly light.

"Oh, and forgot to mention," Ace said as she picked up a brolly that was resting against one of the weapons racks. "Don't jostle the bag too much, yeah?"

The sudden sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach had absolutely nothing to do with what she suspected Ace might say. Nothing at all. "Why not?"

"You're carryin' explosives that register nine on the Richter scale. Wicked, yeah?" With another bright grin, Ace brushed past her and headed toward the door.

No, the sinking feeling had nothing to do with the explosives.

Explosives.

That she got to carry.

Oh, wasn't that just fantastic?

Never let it be said that life with the Doctor was uninteresting. She got to get captured, stuck in a cell with an annoying version of her Doctor, smash cybermats, carry heavy guards, and carry explosives all in the same day.

"Time to rescue the Professor and your Doctor, yeah?" Ace asked from the doorway. In the other woman's eyes, she could see a flash of understanding. Life was like that with the Doctor.

"Yeah," she said with a smile.

Time to save the day.

As usual.

* * *

He was a Time Lord and he was running out of time. The pocket watch was a comforting weight in his hand as he considered the best trajectory to use to attack the cyberman. Usually, he preferred to prattle his way out of situations. Confound them into stupidity was his normal routine, but that wasn't an option now. 

No, the Cyberleader had a grudge. Then again, most of his enemies tended to have grudges of one sort or another. One could judge the quality of a man by the character of his enemies, or however that went.

No matter. No time.

The cyberman was almost upon him. Well, upon both of him. Them? Of all the times to be considering semantics.

Only one thing for it, really. Using a particular movement that was roughly based on the tenth form of Venusian Aikido, he shoved the gold pocket watch into the cyberman's respirator unit. As it emitted its particularly scratchy metallic scream, he grabbed his future self's arm and pulled him along as he ran for the nearest exit.

"Stop them!" the Cyberleader shouted. Maybe he was getting old, but his enemies were getting less imaginative with their threats and words as time went by.

Ten managed to pass him – damn the longer legs of his future regeneration, anyway – and head through the door.

That was, of course, when the Cybermen seemed to recall their blasters. Good thing he was still agile in his old age. Or would that be young age? Semantics again.

He dodged another blast and all but dived through the door. However, he couldn't help himself. Ignoring the blasts for the moment, he doffed his hat with a wide grin. "Thanks for the chat."

"Less prattling, more running!" Ten exclaimed as he grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the line of fire.

This new him seemed to do this a lot. Take action. Run. Throw the words of the enemy into their face, confound them, and then use a more violent method to take care of the situation.

He, on the other hand, preferred to stand behind the scenes, playing his game of chess until the pieces fell where they needed to be. It took a fair bit of manipulation, prattling, and some careful use of Ace's brand of skills, but it tended to work. True, he'd had his share of failures. And he knew, even without asking, that Ten had faced the same. Some things never changed, despite his age.

So he ran. Dodging through halls chased by the faint sound of metal boots. Ace. And Rose. They had to find them. If they didn't know about the Cybermen...

No. Ace would figure it out. Or Rose, though he didn't know if she'd ever encountered the cyber race before. Better to trust a known quantity.

However, running wasn't solving the problem. They had Cybermen, a megalomaniac with, as always, a penchant for world domination, and missing companions. Typical as it might be, he still had to solve it.

The Cybermen had wanted him. Just him. And his tenth self, but mostly just him. Teran's only purpose was to mine the krillamatite. Whatever happened to the days when the problem was as simple as an alien wanting to take over the world?

Whatever happened to the simple solution?

Then again, there never was a simple solution. Not in his life. Or lives. Right. Enough running.

However, before he could do more than open his mouth to tell his future self to stop, he felt something grab his wrist.

And he was pulled to a standstill.

_Oh, great,_ he thought miserably. _Not again._

_To be continued..._


	5. Chapter 5: Breaking Even

**Chapter 5: Breaking Even**

_"And somewhere in the darkness the gambler, he broke even."_  
-The Gambler, Kenny Rogers

"Professor!" Ace exclaimed, barely restraining herself from pulling the reluctant Time Lord into a hug. She didn't do that sort of thing. Ever. But she was damn glad to see him. "Where've you been?"

"Ace!" The Professor beamed at her. "Oh! And you've got my brolly!"

Of course she did. She'd used it to grab him, after all. Silly Time Lord. But, before she could do more than think of responding, he'd pulled it out of her hands. He seemed even happier than before.

"Hallo Ace. Rose!" The future Doctor dodged past them to pull his companion into a tight hug. "Blimey, it's good to see you. Have any troubles getting the gear? No, no, don't tell me. Danger, mayhem, lots of running, and eventual success?"

"You got it," Rose replied with a brilliant smile.

The sudden thought that crossed Ace's mind made her want to gag. But, it was right before her eyes. Seeing them together really was like seeing one's parents together. They hadn't done more than hug, admittedly, but there was far more to it than that. She felt like she was intruding on a personal moment.

Right. Enough of that. Focus.

"Where've you been?" she repeated her earlier question, directing it toward her Doctor.

"Oh, doing this and that. Mostly that."

Sometimes she wanted to smack him. He could be such a git. "Professor..."

"Finding out that this has all been a trap. The dictator's being fronted by the Cybermen, and all they really want to do is kill me. All they've ever wanted to do, really. They seem to find me annoying."

"Oh, imagine _that_," Rose commented.

She shot her a glare. That was her Professor she was talking about. She was the only one who got to make fun of him.

"Oi! Rose, that's me you're talking about," the future Doctor protested.

"Remember what I said about the spoons?" Rose asked sweetly.

"Oh. Right." The Doctor ran his hand through his hair, rumpling it further.

"Professor, what're we going to do about it?" she asked, ignoring the byplay between the future Doctor and Rose.

The Professor's brow furrowed in thought as his hands played with the handle of his brolly. He must've been missing it like crazy. "Remember what I always told you about not using explosives?"

A wide smile began to spread across her face. "Yeah?"

"Forget it."

The smile turned to a grin. "Wicked!"

"Why you, Doctor?" Rose asked, interrupting her musings on the best way to demolish the castle. "I mean, why go through all this trouble? Settin' up a dictator jus' to get their 'ands on you? Isn't that a little, I dunno, overkill?"

The future Doctor shrugged. "Not for the Cybermen. Not really. The most logical means of catching my attention is-"

The Professor continued, "Disrupting time. I'm Time's Champion, Rose. When something's gone wrong, when time isn't flowing how it should, I have to fix it."

"So 's just a coincidence that this particular trap caught both of you?" Rose asked, apparently confused.

"Yeah," the future Doctor replied with yet another shrug.

Ace shook her head. They already knew what'd happened. Now, they just had to take care of it. Permanently. And, of course, explosively. "I've got enough Nitro to blow the building, but we've got to get it placed. Support columns would be best, but looking around here, the outer wall should do. Three to each wall, placed on the outside, timers set to...thirty seconds should do. I'll have to figure out some sort of remote control for the charges. Standard fuses won't do."

She tapped her chin as she considered her supplies. The rucksack had twelve canisters of Nitro-Nine with twelve standard fuses. She just had to twist the cap to set the timer, but that wouldn't work. They had to have some means of setting them off simultaneously. There wouldn't be enough time to dart between the canisters to set the timer on each. Unless...she could just pack three bombs together, in the centre of each wall. But that still left her with four bombs.

"Think this'll help?" the Professor asked. For a moment, his hand held nothing. Then he twisted it in a strange motion and, in his outstretched hand, he suddenly held five objects. One was bulky - some sort of transmitter? The other four were tiny, but they'd fit perfectly on... Oh. _Oh_.

Detonator.

Fuses.

Ace!

"Professor! Where'd you get those?" she asked incredulously as she accepted them.

Her Doctor grinned widely. "Oh, you never know when you might need them. Especially considering your penchant for more...explosive solutions."

Her grin widened. Perfect. "Then we just need to set these up."

"But first I need to have another little chat with our hosts," the future Doctor said. Ignoring her surprised look, he continued, "Well, not necessarily first. Could be concurrent. Or even last. No. Not last. Definitely same time. Anyway, we've got to make sure our friends aren't going to try this particular plot again."

"Doctor, you can't go. You only just escaped!" Rose protested.

"Which is why they wouldn't be expecting me back anytime soon! Rose-" The future Doctor grinned as he put his hands on his companion's shoulders. "-it'll be fine. Nothing's gonna happen. I'll just find out if they've got any other diabolical plans up their sleeves - though Cybermen don't have sleeves, up their circuits? - and get out. Simple."

"Right. An' this is bein' said by the man who got us caught not two seconds after getting' here? Doctor, nothin's ever simple with you around." Well, Ace had to give her that at least. Last time a problem that they had to deal with was simple was…never.

The future Doctor shrugged. "It'll be fine. What could go wrong?"

Oh. Cruk. He didn't just say that, did he? She fought the urge to slap the palm of her hand against her forehead.

"Right. Off I go. Have fun setting the charges," the future Doctor said before striding off, effectively curbing any further objection from Rose or anyone else.

The Professor shook his head. "And they said I'd mellow with age. I'll keep an eye on him. Ace, Rose, take care of the charges. Give us twenty minutes. We'll be back soon."

She frowned. "Professor..."

He didn't answer. Instead, he doffed his hat and followed after his future self.

Wasn't that just fantastic?

"So, Rose," she said into the sudden silence that had followed the Doctors' departure, "how're you at setting detonators?"

* * *

Why did it always have to happen to him? Was there some sort of cosmic force that specifically directed 'all things bad and dangerous' to attack, threaten, prattle at, or generally annoy him? Or did he just have a sign stuck to the centre of his back that said 'target'? Surreptitiously, he felt the back of his coat. 

Nope. No sign.

To quote Ace, cruk.

It'd started off well. He'd walked away from his past self, Rose and Ace with a plan. Well, as much of a plan as he normally had. But that was where it'd started to go pear-shaped. He'd found the throne room easily enough, but it seemed that he was expected.

As in a full cyber patrol expected. Complete with the five-star treatment of getting hauled inside, surrounded by said patrol.

Wonderful. No, _fantastic_.

Maybe Murphy _was_ right.

Enough of that. He grinned widely. "Oh, hello, Cyberleader. Miss me?"

"Doc-tor. We knew you would return to us. It was only a matter of time." Even with its mechanical voice and no emotions to speak of, the Cyberleader sounded particularly smug.

"Proud of yourself, aren't you? Think you've got me figured out? So sorry to disappoint. But, if we're going to have a nice chat, why don't I tell you what this is really all about." He shoved his hands into his pockets, wrapping one hand around the comforting shape of his sonic screwdriver.

When it came down to it, Cybermen really were idiots. Logical idiots. But idiots all the same.

"Let me guess. You decided, on a whim, that you wanted to kill me. Well, maybe not a whim. You do have a reason to have a grudge, but it was Mondas' time to die. You know that, I know that. So this is what you did. Found a nice, peaceful world that just happened to have a resource that someone like Teran here would covet. You helped him take over; let him have free rein to initiate an oppressive regime because you knew that it'd bring me running. Well, not necessarily running, but you knew it'd catch my attention.

"Dictatorships where there shouldn't be any? Oh, that's my bread and butter. Or is that tea and scones? I can never remember those sayings. Anyway, you bring me here, and then what? Your impressive plan was to kill me? Not so impressive now, is it? Is it? Because I'm still alive, and you're still gonna fail. And you know why? It's because bad is dumb. Oh, no, wait, that's _Spaceballs_. Sorry. Or was that good is dumb? Never mind." He rocked back on his heels and grinned.

"Have any backup plans, Cyberleader? Or is this it? Give it a go, see if you can defeat me and, if you can, go home a hero? Oh, wait, you don't have a home. Sorry about that." He was actually rather impressed that he didn't wince when he mentioned 'home.' Technically speaking, he didn't have a home either. But he wasn't about to advertise that - especially not with his past self hiding in the shadows.

Maybe he _was_ getting too predictable in his old age. Mental note: be unpredictable. Right. Like that'd work.

"You talk too much, Doc-tor."

"You really think so?" he asked, astonished. "Some would say I don't talk enough. Or, if I do talk a lot, I don't say much of anything. It's really all about the quality of the prattle, you know. How long can you prattle, how interesting your prattle is, and if anyone can interrupt your prattle before you're done. I've won awards, you know, for the quality of my prattle. But they never got around to giving me that award. They were too busy prattling about it. Strange bunch, those prattlers."

There. He could see his seventh self inching along the wall toward some sort of rope. Oh! Of course. One of the greatest features of castles - no matter what planet they were on - were their rather ornate chandeliers. Heavy iron chandeliers situated, for example, conveniently above the cyber patrol.

And him, of course.

But mostly the cyber patrol.

"Enough." The Cyberleader raised his hand. "You-"

"Oh, I haven't even started yet. You didn't even let me form the complete introduction to my prattle." He tried to look suitably depressed. "But you haven't denied what I said earlier. Which means I got it right. Didn't I? Didn't I? Of course I did. I'm brilliant." Maybe he was carrying the hubris thing a little far. No, never mind that. He had far more important things to worry about.

"-will be deleted," the Cyberleader concluded as if he hadn't said a word. "Goodbye, Doc-tor."

The cybermen patrol advanced, repeating their Cyberleader's command. "Delete, delete, delete." At least, he reasoned, it wasn't exterminate. One got tired of the same old phrases, after all.

"Oh, I wouldn't do that," he warned. "I really, really wouldn't do that. And you know why?" He took a calculated short step to the right and grinned. After all, he always grinned in the face of danger. Or was that laughed? He never could remember those phrases properly.

The Cybermen extended their hands, no doubt intent upon crushing him.

He held his ground.

The chandelier creaked ominously overhead.

The Cybermen took another step forward. Another moment and they'd be upon him.

With a mighty groan of protesting metal, the chandelier broke away from its supports and fell.

That was, of course, when he realised his mistake. He'd moved too far to the right. Just a few centimetres too far...

And there was no time to correct it.

No time.

At all.

_CRASH._

_To be continued..._


	6. Chapter 6: When to Run

**Chapter 6: When to Run**

_"You've got to…know when to walk away, know when to run..."_  
-The Gambler, Kenny Rogers

Rose was, most emphatically, not thinking about the Doctor as she placed three silver canisters against the stone wall. Nor was she thinking about his stupidity in marching back into the lion's den to prove some sort of point. She wasn't worried that if everything had gone wrong - as it was apt to do whenever the Doctor said 'what could go wrong?' - she'd have to meet a new new new Doctor.

No, she wasn't worried at all.

She stepped away from her work, brushing her hands clean against her jeans. He'd be fine. They'd be fine. There was absolutely nothing to worry about.

"Got it, then?" Ace asked as she trotted toward her. "All done?"

"Yeah. They're all set up." She sneaked a concerned glance at the castle. He'd be fine.

Ace nodded, glancing at her watch. "They've got five minutes."

Five minutes. Five. Just five. Sod it, she was worried. "Then where are they?"

Ace shot her a knowing glance. A moment later, in a chorus, they both answered the question. "In trouble."

* * *

When it came down to it, life was like chess. 

There were no winners or losers in this game. Only stalemates. Evil would nudge ahead, then good, then evil, then good in a never-ending cycle.

Good had won the square.

Checkmate.

He lifted himself carefully off his tenth self, grimacing as pains and jolts made themselves known with every movement. This body was getting too old for some of this action work. Knocking his future incarnation out of the way of the falling chandelier, and avoiding getting grabbed by the Cybermen, had taken quite a bit of cunning and speed.

Not for the first time, he found himself rather thankful that he was a Time Lord. He wasn't as adept as some of his past selves at controlling - and slowing - time, but he had done what he could. Gave himself that extra second to save his future self. It was enough, thankfully. Another move in the game, another square saved. Another figurative King and his court toppled until the next pieces took over.

He stood, brushing the debris and remnants of the Cybermen from his formerly pristine white suit. That was the problem with fighting evil, really. The cleaning bills tended to be rather enormous. "You know what the most important thing about comedy is?"

His tenth self grinned as he, too, stood. "Yeah. It's all about the timing."

Timing.

Timing. Something about timing was important. Oh. _Oh_. He reached into his pocket for his pocket watch before he recalled that he'd destroyed it in his first bid for escape from the Cybermen. "We've wasted too much of it already. We've got a deadline." How much time did they have? He'd told Ace twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes till an explosion.

Twenty minutes till the endgame.

That was almost twenty minutes ago. Time was running out.

"You will not escape." The unexpected sound of the Cyberleader's voice startled him. He turned to see the cyberman attempting to extract itself from the remnants of the chandelier.

"That's what they all say," his tenth self said cheerily. "They've all been wrong."

That was when he heard the tell-tale sound of metal boots clanging against the stonework of the floors. There were more of them. Of course there were more of them.

No time. "Come on," he urged, grasping his future self's elbow and steering him toward the door.

"Stop! You will be deleted!" a cyberman commanded from somewhere behind them.

He ignored it, as did his tenth incarnation. However, his tenth incarnation looked at him with a grin. "Run?"

He'd done more running in this particular adventure than he had in quite some time. There was no choice. "Run," he agreed.

And they did.

With another cyber patrol just behind them.

* * *

Cruk. Five minutes had come and gone and still no sign of the wayward Professor. If she delayed any longer, the Cybermen might escape. 

Time was running out. It didn't matter if the Professor was a Time Lord or not, he was late. And, if she didn't set off the explosives soon, everything they'd worked for would be for nought.

"Look!" Rose's exclamation interrupted her thoughts.

There. Through the open gates she could see the Doctors running toward them, followed closely by the Cybermen. No time. The timers were set for fifteen seconds.

It had to be enough.

They were out of time.

_I've given you all the time I can, Professor. It's up to you,_ she thought as she depressed the button.

No time.

"Run!" she shouted, grabbing Rose's jacket and hauling her along with her. The other woman fought the movement, but she grimly held on. No time. There wasn't any time at all.

Count-down.

Fifteen.

Fourteen.

Thirteen.

Twelve.

Eleven.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

_BOOM!_

Oh, cruk. Damn fuses.

Ace grimaced. She'd been trying to perfect them, but each time they seemed to be just a few seconds off. However, she couldn't quite suppress her normal sense of glee as she watched the building collapse upon itself thanks to carefully placed Nitro Nine canisters. It seemed rather inevitable, at least where she was concerned, that something had to explode whenever she was involved despite the Professor's protests.

The Professor. What if he hadn't got out in time?

No. He was fine. He always was.

"Where are they?" Rose asked anxiously as she scanned the smoking remnants of the castle.

She shrugged, pretending to be unconcerned. "Getting out of trouble and coming to find us, I'd guess. Don't worry, Rose. Takes a lot more than some of my Nitro to stop the Doctor."

She hoped.

However, seconds continued to tick away with no sign of them. Nothing. No movement in the smoke. Nothing. She could see Rose frantically searching the rubble with her eyes for the same thing. Nothing. Nothing at all.

What if she was wrong?

What if she'd made a mistake?

What if her damned fuses hadn't given them enough time?

What if the Professor was dead?

No. She couldn't think like that. Wouldn't think like that. She wasn't ready to lose him. Not yet.

Oh, god, not yet...

* * *

Nothing. 

No movement. Nothing but smoke. Even sound seemed strangely muted, though Rose knew that was only because of the explosion. Almost as if the world mourned with her.

No.

She wouldn't think like that. Couldn't think like that. He was fine. Her Doctor was fine. Ace's Doctor was fine. They were fine. Healthy. They were just busy.

_Busy being dead? Regenerating over and over again under the rubble?_

Oh god. What if they were? What if they were trapped, condemned to regenerate over and over again. To never truly wake up from their regenerative fugue, to be crushed to death again, and again. How many lives did he have? Could he have? There had to be some sort of limit?

Oh god. Ace's Doctor was a previous incarnation. If he died, if Ace's Doctor died repetitively, crushed to death again and again... that'd cause a paradox, wouldn't it? Oh god.

There was still nothing. No movement. Nothing at all. Oh god. Doctor...

Wait.

There.

Was that movement?

She peered through the smoke, straining her eyes in the desperate attempt to see something, anything. A hint. A hope. Something. He couldn't be dead. He just couldn't.

She'd know, wouldn't she? Her heart would skip a beat; she'd feel empty; she'd feel lost. She would know if he was dead, if the Doctor was gone. She'd know.

Right?

There. She wasn't imagining it. There was movement. She saw it.

"Ace, over there!" she said, pointing toward the remains of the castle as the movement gained shape and substance. Human - well, humanish - figures moved through the smoke toward them. It had to be them.

But it could be Cybermen.

No. It was the Doctor. Both of him. Them. Whatever. It had to be. _Had_ to be.

It was. Oh, god, it was. She barely gave the previous Doctor a glance, noting only that his hat was askew and he looked much the worse for wear. No. Her eyes were for the Doctor. _Her_ Doctor.

And she was running. She hadn't even thought about it. She just ran. Ran toward him. Her Doctor. The same brown suit, the same brown eyes, the same rumpled hair, the exact same smile.

He was alive! Alive and still himself.

Alive, at least for the moment, because she was going to kill him.

She was torn. Either to give into her anger or throw herself into his arms. She needed his hug. Needed his touch. Needed to be sure, absolutely sure, that he was real.

But the anger was stronger.

"You bloody idiot!" she said as she marched up to him, poking an accusing finger into his chest.

He blinked and appeared shocked. "What?"

Smug bastard. "You could've been killed! You marched in there, without a plan, without even telling me - us - how long you'd be or what you were thinkin', an' I bet I know just what happened, too. You got captured, didn't you? Didn't you?" She didn't let him reply, just continued speaking without giving him a chance to get a word in edgewise. "You did. An' your past self had to rescue you. And then you end up getting' chased by Cybermen, an' almost blown up, an' you're a right _bastard_ for doing that, okay?" Those were not tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. Not at all.

He could've said anything. Could've made some sort of joke. Could've deflected her anger into something else. He didn't.

Instead, he captured her hand with his own and pulled her unresisting form into a warm embrace. "I am," he agreed quietly. "But I did have a plan. I always have a plan. Plan A was to confront the Cyberleader, get answers, get out, and Ace blows up the castle. That went a bit dodgy since they were expecting me, so I went to plan B. Confront the Cyberleader, get answers, use the sonic screwdriver to distract the cyber patrol, get out, and Ace blows up the castle. That didn't work either. So, had to go with plan C. Confront the Cyberleader, get answers, have my past self cause a distraction with the chandelier, get out, and Ace blows up the castle. Even that went a bit pear-shaped, but it worked in the end. I'm here. You're here. My past self's here. Ace's here. It's a right old party, really."

She pulled just enough out of his embrace to give his arm a solid thump. "I know better than to say don't do that again. So I won't."

He tried his best to look injured as he rubbed his arm, but he failed. She could easily see the mirth, and the relief, in his brown eyes. "One Cybermen plot defeated, one Cyberleader destroyed, one castle blown up, and one generic megalomaniac put in his place. All in all, a good day's work, wouldn't you say, Rose?" With one final squeeze, he let her go.

She shook her head, smiling fondly. He really was an idiot. But, when it came down to it, he was _her_ idiot. "Yeah." She looked over at the other two, and her smile widened as the shorter Doctor pointedly ignored them to round upon his companion.

"Fifteen seconds?" the Professor asked, shooting Ace an exasperated look.

"No one's perfect," Ace replied with a wide grin. "But we won. Right, Professor?"

The past incarnation of the Doctor smiled faintly. "For now. Until next time. With the dictatorship ended and the Cybermen destroyed, the planet should return to normal in no time. We can check up on it again within the year, just to be on the safe side. I've left too many loose ends behind me recently. This won't be another one."

She glanced at the Doctor, catching the faint shadow that crossed his face at his past self's words. Wordlessly, she grabbed his hand, giving it a comforting press. In return, he offered her a slight smile. The new new Doctor might not be as, well, _obviously_ damaged as her first Doctor, but she knew it was still there. He was just better at using a mask.

Her Doctor brushed some of the dust off his suit jacket and grinned. "Right. Best we be off, then. Places to go, people to see, tea to drink. The usual, really."

The Professor nodded. "Yes. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice, somewhere else the tea is getting cold." His brow furrowed for a moment. "Strange, I think I've said that before."

Ace grinned and patted her Doctor's arm. "You have, Professor. But that's okay. We've got work to do."

"Rose," the Professor said, doffing his hat. "It was a pleasure meeting you. And, of course, me. And, Rose, take care of me. If he's anything like I am - and, from what I've seen, he's worse - he'll need it."

"Oi!" the Doctor protested.

"I will," she replied, ignoring her Doctor's pained look.

"Come on, Ace," the previous version of the Doctor said, placing his hat back upon his head. "You're right. We do have work to do." With those words, he set off toward the town.

Ace nodded, but not before shooting her an intent look. "Take care of yourself, Rose. And him. He might not look like the Professor, but he is. Gets into just as much trouble, too."

After a moment's thought, Ace crossed the short distance between them and reached into her jacket. Withdrawing a silver canister, she pressed it into her free hand. "Take this. You never know when you might need it. Especially knowing him."

"Thanks," she said, not knowing what else she could say in response. "Good luck."

Ace grinned. "Yeah. See ya, Professor!" She waved jauntily at them before she trotted after the shorter Time Lord.

"Ace!" her Doctor said, dropping her hand to stride toward the other woman.

"What?" Ace asked, turning back toward him.

She couldn't see his expression, but she could imagine it. She could imagine his shy smile as he rocked back on his feet. She could imagine his brown eyes staring intently into Ace's. And she could imagine the sorrow that lurked behind his mask. Another companion. Another friend. Another goodbye.

Rose didn't feel jealous. Couldn't feel jealous. This was Ace. Loud, obnoxious, explosive-toting Ace. She was a friend.

"I know we don't do this a lot, but this is a new me and there's a first time for everything." And he pulled Ace into a bear-hug.

Though she couldn't see his face, she could see Ace's. The other woman was stunned to silence for a moment, before she returned the Doctor's embrace.

The hug lasted for a few moments before he released Ace. "It was good to see you again." His voice sounded sad, at least to her ears, and her heart went out to him.

"Good to see you, too, Professor. You've cleaned up well, at least. Can't say much about the nutty geek look, but it suits you." Ace grinned.

"Thanks, I think," he replied, but now she could hear the smile in his voice.

"Oh, it was a compliment, Professor. Anything's better than that paisley scarf!"

"I always was rather fond of that scarf," the Doctor protested.

"You are," Ace agreed. "I'll see ya around sometime, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Ace turned and continued on her way, leaving the Doctor staring after her.

"You okay?" she asked quietly as she came up to his side, sliding her hand into his.

He looked at her and for a moment she could see a flicker of sorrow before it was chased away by his grin. "I will be. So, all's well that ends well, right, Rose? Let's get back to the TARDIS. We've got a universe to explore. But, first, I could do with a good cup of tea. Though, after meeting myself, I could probably do with something stronger."

She shook her head and laughed as they headed toward the TARDIS. "Yeah, right."

A sudden thought occurred to her and she paused, tugging on his hand. "Wait a mo'. Doctor, if you've met me before, as your past self...why didn't you say anything? I mean. Wouldn't you remember?"

His brow furrowed in thought and he raked his hand through his hair, rumpling it far more than usual. "I should, wouldn't you think? But I don't. Maybe I forgot."

He forgot?

"Because of regeneration?" she asked.

"Or because I made myself forget. It's never wise to know too much of your own future," he mused.

She nodded slightly. That was true. If she'd known some of what she'd see...no. She would've made the exact same choices, even knowing the consequences. Maybe not her Dad, but…no. She knew herself. She'd still do the same thing. Make the same choice. Because that was who she was.

She was Rose Tyler. Companion to the last Time Lord. And human. Just human.

Was this what it was like for him? Knowing that he could've changed his future, could've saved his planet, just with a word? Maybe he had mentioned something. Maybe that was why he'd forgotten? Because his past self had erased his memory of it?

No, she thought as she resumed walking. He hadn't. He wouldn't. He knew the consequences as well as she did. And he'd made his choice.

He was the Doctor. The last Time Lord. And though he made mistakes, he wouldn't do that. Couldn't do that.

Because of one single fact. Because of who he was.

The Doctor.

_Her_ Doctor.

_To be concluded in the Epilogue..._


	7. Epilogue: Final Words

_Because I couldn't quite resist the temptation, there is a bit of Ten/Rose shippiness in this epilogue. It's not necessary for the rest of the story, but, well, temptation called :) Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I'm so glad that you've enjoyed this story! - Gillian

* * *

_**  
**

**Epilogue: Final Words**

_"And in his final words I found an ace that I could keep."_  
-The Gambler, Kenny Rogers

It was good to be home, she decided as she patted one of the white roundels of the TARDIS. The comforting hum of the time-ship rumbled through the console room and she smiled. Familiar, comfortable, home. Definitely more of a home than Perivale had ever been.

And that was despite everything that had happened. Between her and the Professor. Between his manipulations, her angst, and whatever messes they found themselves in. It was home. This was home. Right here. Right now.

She knew, of course she knew, that someday she'd leave him. Or he'd leave her. It was inevitable. But something in the other Doctor's eyes, something of the desperation in his embrace, worried her. He hadn't said a word, but he didn't have to. She could see it.

Something was wrong. Or would be wrong. Something in the future would cause that desperation, that need, that damage. She didn't know when it'd happen, but she suspected it would. And she knew that she wasn't there when it happened.

All from his embrace.

The comforting surroundings of the TARDIS suddenly lost their comfort as a chill crept up her spine. Something was coming. Not now. Not yet. But it was coming.

She couldn't keep it in. She couldn't _not_ talk about it. "Professor," she began before she paused, searching for the right words to continue.

"Mmm? Yes, Ace?" he asked absently as he flipped switches and turned knobs on the console.

"The other you. The future you. He seemed…different." No. That wasn't the right word.

He gave her his full attention and she was stunned by that heady regard. Every time he did that, she felt as if she were the most important thing in the universe. As if he'd shoved to the side all the other considerations of his position as Time's Champion, as the Doctor, just to listen to her. "Because of Rose?" he asked.

No. Yes. Maybe. The future Doctor and Rose were obviously close. Almost to the point where she felt uncomfortable simply thinking about it. But, no. She shook her head. "No. Not really. Yeah, a bit. But not all of it. He hugged me, Professor. And something in it just..." Her voice trailed off as she shook her head, defeated by the loss of the right words.

He approached her and his blue eyes seemed sad as they filled her vision. "We aren't meant to know the future, Ace," he said as he lifted two fingers to touch her left temple.

_Forget…_

She blinked and shook her head in an almost futile attempt to clear the cobwebs. "Professor?" she asked, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Were we talking about something?"

He looked at her from across the console – Wasn't he next to her earlier? No. Impossible – and grinned. "We're always talking about something, Ace. Tea, your penchant for explosives, and holidays."

"Holidays?" she asked.

"Oh, yes. Holidays. Thought we could do with a nice holiday. Somewhere tropical, nice beaches, good food, good company, and no megalomaniacs with aspirations of ruining the day," he announced, twisting a knob with extra gusto.

She grinned. A holiday. For them? Well, it couldn't be worse than the last place they'd been. Which was... "Doctor, where were we? Today?"

"Today?" A flicker of confusion darted across his face. "Oh, another planet, but it wasn't that memorable. Maybe. Can't quite remember. Anyway. Holiday! Let's try...Corbais. 5050 should do the trick."

"A holiday?" she asked. "You mean it, right? A real holiday?"

He did his best to look hurt. "Of course I meant it. A holiday. Promise. I think we both need a break. Read a good book, get a tan, try the local cuisine – and their version of ice cream is fabulous – and do nothing strenuous for at least a few days. Sound like a plan?"

She grinned. "It sounds…wicked."

That it'd turn out that the Corbaisians were being invaded by the Sontarans and their holiday would be cancelled never crossed her mind.

This was her life. Another day. Another planet. Another gamble.

Just her, the Professor, and a hefty dose of Nitro-Nine.

And that, she decided with a grin as she joined him by the console, was what made it perfect.

* * *

He was looking at her again. Ever since they'd returned to the TARDIS, he'd been looking. Something in his expression was different, more intense. Shades of his former self – and she wasn't thinking of his short, annoying, Scottish version. 

No. He wasn't looking at her. Couldn't be. There were things to do, places to go, tea to drink.

Oh god. She _had_ been spending too much time with him.

No. She wouldn't think about it. She wouldn't think about his brown eyes boring into her, or that look on his face. They were home.

Yes. That was what was important. They'd saved the day and saved the planet. And they were home in time for tea.

She fought the urge to thump her head against one of the columns in the console room. No. She wouldn't think like him either.

Another adventure over. Another day where they'd won. And she'd got a chance to see what he was like before he ever was her Doctor. She found his previous version annoying, but he was still recognisably the Doctor. Just not _her_ Doctor. She shook her head. She could give herself a headache just thinking about it.

And he was still looking at her.

She couldn't stand it anymore. "What?"

He blinked owlishly at her. "What what?"

Oh no. He wasn't getting away with asking a question as an answer. "You've been looking at me." The ghost of Cassandra's voice whispered in her mind, _And you like it_. She firmly suppressed that thought.

"I have?" he asked, running his hand through his hair. His expression grew sheepish. "Oh. Maybe I have. Sorry."

"'S okay, but, Doctor…are you all right? I mean, with seeing Ace an' your past self an' all." She met his gaze, hoping that he wouldn't look away.

He didn't and for a moment she could see behind his mask. She could see the pain and the grief that he kept hidden, had to keep hidden. He was the strongest man – or alien – that she knew to withstand that much emotion. But he couldn't. Not really. Sometimes he broke.

She was watching the fracture grow within him before he blinked and the moment was gone. "Yeah. I'm always all right."

No. She wasn't having that. That was no answer. At least, it wasn't the correct answer. Another layer, another mask. She crossed the short distance between them, never looking away. To look away would be a concession, an agreement to let him continue to suffer in silence, hidden away behind the mask of 'fine' or 'all right'.

She reached out and touched his arm.

It was a catalyst. He stepped forward and wrapped her in his arms. He said nothing, but his embrace told her what he could not. He was hurting. He missed Ace, missed the things that'd he'd lost over the years, missed companions, and regretted mistakes. He was worried, about her and for her. The future. The past. The present. Everything he felt, she could tell just from the tightness of his embrace and the slightly rushed sound of his heartsbeat.

Oh, Doctor...

"No," she said softly, denying his words. "Not always, and not now. But you will be."

His only answer was a miniscule tightening of his arms around her. But that wasn't enough. Wasn't nearly enough. She couldn't tell if he believed her. All she could tell was that he was hurting. And he needed her.

He needed her.

Not like before. Not with the same desperation. But in a different way. Perhaps even a better way. She reached up and caressed his cheek, barely feeling him press against her hand in unspoken encouragement.

Oh, Doctor. Her Doctor.

He was in pain. So much pain, for so long, hidden behind a mask but still there. Still aching. Still hurting.

Tears brimmed in her eyes. Oh, Doctor. She didn't think as she gently brushed her lips against his. She didn't even consider the consequences to her actions or the possible ramifications. It was an automatic reaction. He was hurting. She wanted to comfort him.

So she kissed him.

She.

Kissed.

Him.

And she froze.

"Rose." Her name was barely a breath upon his lips.

She couldn't look at him. Wouldn't look at him. Wouldn't meet his eyes, because she just _knew_ what she'd see. An apology. A murmured response that he didn't do this, couldn't do this, because he was nine hundred years old and she was barely past childhood. Because he was a Time Lord and she was a silly ape. Because she'd die long before he ever would. Because he could regenerate and no longer feel anything for her beyond friendship – oh, she deluded herself. She knew he loved her, but he wasn't in love with her. Because he didn't do domestic. Because he...

His hand touched her chin, forcing her to look up. And what she saw astonished her.

No regrets. A hint of pain, yes. But overwhelming it all was another emotion. Something that defied description or explanation. There were no words to describe it.

It just was.

He didn't regret it. She could see the truth in his eyes.

Instead of fulfilling her fears, he smiled. "Thank you," he whispered as his hand brushed upward from her chin to cup her cheek.

She blinked, fighting and losing against her instinct to lean into his touch. "For what?"

His smile turned into a grin as he leaned toward her, barely touching his lips against hers. "For being you."

That was when she fully realised what he meant. No, what she meant to him. Not the same as before, but different. Good different. Her last Doctor wouldn't've kissed her. Not like that.

Even though it was so gentle it was barely there, it'd changed everything and nothing at the same time.

No ramifications. No consequences. Nothing had changed. Not really. It was just them.

The Doctor and Rose.

Her Doctor. His Rose.

Friends, companions, and, possibly, something more. But that was okay. Anything could happen.

Life was a gamble. Life with the Doctor doubly so. But despite the risks, despite the inevitable consequences of the life that she'd chosen, it was worth it.

Some things were worth gambling on. And it was a choice she'd never regret.

**THE END**


End file.
